


the little bits and pieces of this world

by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Headcanon, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9942548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: Kuroo and Yaku, and their relationship over seven years. Contains manga spoilers up to Ch. 206.This has to be someone’s idea of a terrible joke, Tetsurou thinks on the day of volleyball tryouts at Nekoma, because the person who’s haunted his thoughts for the better part of his middle school life is standing in front of him, arms crossed and wearing the exact same training outfit as him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Kuroyaku day! (March 1)
> 
> once upon a time i wanted to conquer the whole world  
>  but in the end i realised  
>  the little bits and pieces of this world are all made up of you

**one**

The volleyball team in Sakuramichi Junior High is small. It’s not a niche sport for the school, but Tetsurou joined it because he’s planning to go to Nekoma High School once he graduates. He’s heard about the Nekoma volleyball team - they’ve gone to nationals! - and he wants to join them when he enters high school. Hopefully, with Kenma.

 

The lights of the gymnasium are glaring and the roar of the crowd deafening when he steps onto the court for the first time. It’s his first ever match, and he’s been placed as a starter because one of the seniors fractured an ankle.

As he gets into position, shifting his feet, his shoes squeak, slightly loudly. They’re playing Kurishima Junior High today - one of the better teams in the prefecture, or so Tetsurou’s heard from his seniors. Well, Sakuramichi’s team is small, but that doesn’t mean they’re weak either.

 _Any time now_ , he thinks. He can feel excitement and fear and nervousness bubbling deep within his chest, like a boiling pot that can’t still. He wants to win.

The whistle blows.

Scoring points against Kurishima is… difficult. Sakuramichi’s plays are good, but their receives have always been on the weak side. Frustratingly, the same cannot be said for Kurishima. Their libero seems to pick up every single ball that Tetsurou spikes - even before he has time to choose a place to spike at, the libero’s already there, as if he’d predicted Tetsurou’s move.

 _Damn it_ , Tetsurou thinks after they lose the first match of the set. He’s eyeing the other team, trying to recall each starter’s style in an effort to calm himself down. Their middle blocker, #6, tends to spike crosses, while the other, #8, evidently prefers straights. He’ll have to try adapting to that in the next match.

He’s got most of them down by the time his eyes drift to the libero, the only one in black.

Their libero is pretty... average. Tetsurou’s considered tall for a middle-schooler, and he’s probably got around ten centimetres on Kurishima’s libero at least. So, average Japanese student height. Short for a volleyball player, but most liberos are, anyway.

He’s sitting quietly on the bench by himself while the rest of the team, clad in bright blue, stands around him. Nobody’s talking to him, and Tetsurou wonders why. Perhaps he’s an anti-social player, or maybe he’s just trying to keep his focus on the match - who knows?

Then the libero takes another swig from his bottle and stands up, tugging on his elbow guard as he does so. For a fleeting moment, he locks eyes with Tetsurou and stares hard at him

It feels like a direct challenge to Tetsurou, and he glares back on reflex. But the libero is already turning away, right as Tetsurou’s senior taps him on the back. It’s time to gather; the next match is starting.

They’re going to get the next match, then take the set.

To Tetsurou's annoyance, that isn’t how reality plays out. He finds his eyes drawn to Kurishima’s libero whenever he switches out - watches how he continuously saves Sakuramichi’s spikes, even managing to dive to cover a feint that would definitely have earned a point had it been any other team they were playing against.

He doesn’t save all of them, of course, but he saves more than enough for Kurishima to walk off with a comfortable 6-point victory over Sakuramichi.

As they shake hands with their opponents at the net, Tetsurou takes the chance to level a belated stare at the libero somewhere down the line, who just raises an eyebrow without saying a word. One of the Kurishima starters comes up to him then, and he moves away with them, not even bothering to glance back.

What a douchebag, Tetsurou decides. Didn’t even have the decency to say _Thank you for the match_!

Next year, Tetsurou vows, he’ll make that libero pay.

 

Kurishima makes it to the Tokyo qualifier match for nationals.

* * *

**two**

Because Kurishima made it to the qualifier match (and ended their season there), the prefectural sports paper gives them a brief introduction in the article about the upcoming preliminaries the next year. The libero, whose arrogant glance is still weighing heavy on Tetsurou’s mind, is named Yaku Morisuke. It’s a one-liner introduction for him, but that’s how Tetsurou finds out he was the only first-year starter from Kurishima last season.

He shouldn’t be surprised, because yeah, the libero was too definitely _small_ to be a senior. But his skills, Tetsurou thinks, were good enough to rival a second- or third-year.

 

Tetsurou is wont to admit it, but there’s an unpleasant feeling in his gut when he realizes that his plan to exact revenge on Yaku Morisuke has been foiled by their preliminary match bracket allocations. While Sakuramichi has grown slightly stronger (and they have Kenma now, too), it would take nothing short of a miracle for both Sakuramichi and Kurishima to make it through all their matches and meet at the semi-finals.

 

As he expects, they don’t get to meet that season. What a waste, because Tetsurou has been slogging away at his receives, the memory of a libero in black with bright blue accents spurring him on.

Next year, Tetsurou thinks. Next year we will. I’ll put him in his place.

* * *

 **three**  

Tetsurou makes vice-captain in his third year, when he’s Totally Over that jackass of a libero that he had the misfortune to cross paths with in first year.

After all, he’s in third year now. He’s grown up, and there’s no time for petty grudges on people he doesn't even know personally. This year, his goals are clear: to bring Sakuramichi to nationals, and to focus on his high school entrance exams.

 

He only manages to achieve one of them.

 

In a way, his high school entrance results redeem the disappointment he feels at the team’s failure to get to nationals - he’s done well enough to enter Nekoma easily, so there’s still time for him to pursue that dream.

It’s not too late, provided he doesn’t have to meet that libero again in the high school tournaments - Kenma snorts when Tetsurou confides this in him, saying, _With skills as good as you say he does? Please, Kuro_ \- because Tetsurou would very much like to deal with one less strong competitor if he can help it. A libero like that guy - Yaku Morisuke, or whatever his name was - would definitely be a major cockblock at high school level matches.

* * *

**four**

This has to be someone’s idea of a terrible joke, Tetsurou thinks on the day of volleyball tryouts at Nekoma, because the person who’s haunted his thoughts for the better part of his middle school life is standing in front of him, arms crossed and wearing the exact same training outfit as him.

If God was going to let him win against such great odds, Tetsurou wonders, why hadn’t he just struck the lottery instead?

He’d recognise that sandy hair anywhere, and that gaze, which, if anything, has only grown sharper than Tetsurou remembers.

Now that they’re standing in such close proximity to each other, the first thing Tetsurou notices is that he’s a whole head taller than Yaku. He takes small delight in that, until the other first-year with the buzzcut asks, “Are the two of you joining the volleyball club?”

Tetsurou almost doesn’t catch his name - Kai Nobuyuki - because reality sinks in at that very moment: he’s going to be stuck with Yaku Morisuke, his sworn enemy since he was 13 years old, for the next three years. They’re going to be _teammates_. Of all the things that could have happened after entering high school, this was the very last thing on his mind.

Screw that, he’d never even considered the possibility. God must be having a field day in heaven, Tetsurou thinks in mild irritation.

Anyway - “Class Two, Kuroo Tetsurou,” he says, and if he’s looking down at his new, um, teammate, it’s purely because of their height difference and nothing to do with the disdain that he has for this libero totally trashing Sakuramichi in the tournaments. Nothing at all.

“Class Three, Yaku Morisuke,” the other says, eyebrows raised defiantly.  

“I know you,” Tetsurou blurts without thinking, feeling the bitter memory of his first ever middle school loss rise to the forefront of his mind again.

“I do? Have we met?”

The moment after the words leave Yaku’s mouth, Tetsurou feels like he’s been punched in the face. _What?_

Yaku doesn't seem to be kidding, because he's looking unamused, his lips turning slightly downwards as he furrows his brow at Tetsurou in confusion.

Better to be a nice guy and give him some benefit of doubt, Tetsurou decides. Maybe it’s just slipped his mind. “Your school trashed mine at the preliminaries during our first year.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you at all,” Yaku scoffs, scowl returning in full force. “Also, could you not look down at me? It seriously pisses me off.”

Well, the thought of having to play with this guy on the same team pisses Tetsurou off already. He’d have thought that that challenging glance after their match together had meant _something_ , but obviously he’d thought wrong. It annoys him more than he expects it to.

“I can’t help the height difference, Yaku-san,” he says in what he hopes is a sickly sweet voice. (Internally, he winces at himself in disgust.)

Kai interrupts then, ignoring the glares that he and Yaku are already exchanging - great, ten minutes into their first day and they’re off to a _fantastic_ start.

 

Even though they haven’t been formally accepted as members of the club, the three of them are asked to go down for practice - Tetsurou suspects it’s because there’s only the three of them anyway, so they’re all guaranteed places on the team.

That’s how he ends up spending a big bulk of his after-school hours with both Kai and Yaku. It’s more of hanging out with Kai and fighting with Yaku, actually, because Yaku and him are evidently destined to clash on every single matter known to man.

And of course, the one and only time they agree on anything _has_ to be “going to nationals” when they finally get their official acceptance into the club, but the seniors don’t seem particularly convinced that they’ll be able to achieve that.

 

None of them make starting lineup, but Yaku is placed as reserve libero, ahead of both Tetsurou and Kai. Coach Naoi focuses on training the starters, which means the three of them train a lot together with the second years who aren’t regulars.

Yaku’s receives have become even better than they were, which isn’t surprising, and Kai is a pretty solid and all-rounded player.

They’ll probably be able to build a strong team in the future, Tetsurou thinks, assuming Yaku and him can somehow (ie. by way of some miracle) cooperate. As it is, they’re only on cordial terms with each other, never hanging out more than is necessary. Tetsurou studies with Kai on some days during lunch, and he knows Kai studies with Yaku on other days, but they never bother studying together.

Tetsurou doesn’t want to, anyway.

 

They get scheduled for their first ever summer practice match two months later. It’s against Fukurodani.

Once the match starts, it doesn’t take long for Tetsurou to understand why Fukurodani is named one of Tokyo’s powerhouse schools. The most memorable member of their team is easily their wing spiker, #10, with the salt-and-pepper hair and large golden eyes that remind Tetsurou of an owl. He stands out both in features and in play, and Tetsurou’s sure that he’s Fukurodani’s ace.

When he mentions this to one of the third-years during a timeout, though, his senior says: “Huh? That guy? He’s a first year. Their ace is the one with the slicked-back hair, #4.”

That’s surprising to hear, but what’s even more surprising is that Coach Naoi waves Kai, Yaku and him over after the match has resumed.

“I hope you’re prepared, because I’m sending all three of you in when we start the second game,” Coach says. “While I don’t intend to place any of you as starters yet, I’d like to see how you work with each other and the team when it comes to an actual match.”

 

Tetsurou’s hands are kind of sweaty when it’s his turn to sub in. He rubs them down the side of his shorts, and stares at the person across the net from him: it’s the first-year wing spiker who looks like an owl, who’s grinning as he waits for the ball to be served.

It feels… different to be standing on the court with a team that isn’t Sakuramichi behind him. Once the ball comes to Nekoma’s side of the court, Tetsurou’s waiting, waiting - and the ball goes to the captain, who hits a narrow straight towards Fukurodani. It’s saved by their libero, though, and Tetsurou’s eyes narrow as he watches their #10 prepare for a spike.

It looks like he’s about to hit a straight, but as Tetsurou jumps, ready to block, the course of the ball changes and it becomes a cross. He can’t help clucking his tongue in frustration, and he knows from the look on the wing spiker’s face that he _knows_ Tetsurou’s annoyed, and he’s taking great joy in it.

“Good job, Bokuto!” someone from Fukurodani calls, and the wing spiker grins even larger at the praise.

 

After Yaku subs in, Tetsurou manages to get a touch on a ball that Fukurodani slams down, but it’s out of control and he wouldn’t be surprised if Yaku can’t save it. By the time he’s turned around, however, Yaku’s lying on the ground, and the ball’s back up in the air.

The vice-captain’s shouting, “Nice receive!” which the rest of the team echoes, but Tetsurou bites his tongue and turns back to the game. The ball is set to him, and he manages to score.  

He can hear calls of “Good job, Kuroo!” from behind him, but when he turns back, the first thing he sees is Yaku, staring at him, silent.

 

The dam breaks after Fukurodani leaves and Coach Naoi’s dismissed them. The first-years are always the last to use the showers, because the seniors get to go first, so by the time Tetsurou’s fresh and clean, it’s just the three of them in the locker room.

Tetsurou’s exhausted, and he wants nothing more than to go home, finish what homework he has left, and bond with his bed for eight hours.

Unfortunately, Yaku can’t leave well enough alone, it seems, as he slams his locker door shut. “Oi, Kuroo.”

“What?”

“Next time, don’t swing your arms like that.”

Tetsurou is sure he can feel a vein twitching in his forehead at Yaku’s tone of voice.

“What are you talking about?” he settles for saying, because he has absolutely no idea what Yaku’s snapping at him for.

“That ball you had a one touch on, your arms blocked my view of the ball.” Yaku doesn’t even look at him as he shrugs on his jacket and picks up his bag. “It makes saving the ball difficult.”

Something in Tetsurou snaps. It’s not the first time Yaku’s giving him feedback, and he understands what Yaku’s saying - the guy’s got a point, but the way he’s saying it is rubbing Tetsurou the wrong way.

“Right, I’ll try harder next time,” he says in as pacifying a tone as he can manage. He’s asking for trouble, he knows, because Yaku hates people trying to placate him, but what can Tetsurou say? He hates people talking down to him too, even when said person is fifteen centimetres shorter than him.

“You can say it if you have a problem with me, you know,” Yaku says, scowl etched onto his features.

Well, then. Since he requested.

“I do have a problem with you,” Tetsurou says, lip curling. “I’d love to punch you right about now, actually. Who do you think you are?”

“I could ask you the same,” Yaku spits. “You’ve hated my guts since the first day of club, when I’ve never done anything to you.”

Tetsurou sees red at that. He’s right about to cross what short distance lies between himself and Yaku, preferably to give Yaku a good black eye and a piece of his mind, when Kai plants himself solidly in between them, looking exasperated.

“Cut it out. You’re both tired and not thinking straight,” Kai says, one hand placed calmly on Tetsurou’s shoulder and the rest of his frame easily blocking Yaku from Tetsurou’s view. He doesn’t leave them any chance to argue, because then he’s pushing Yaku out of the locker room, resisting the other’s protests.

Then the room is silent, and Tetsurou is left alone.

 

“You know, Yaku’s not that bad a guy,” Kai says as they’re eating lunch on the rooftop, next to the tennis courts. It’s been almost a week since their scuffle in the locker room, and Yaku and Tetsurou have stoically refused to talk to each other at all.

Tetsurou lets out a loud snort. “That’s because he doesn’t intentionally provoke you or anything, Kai.”

Kai’s quiet for a while, chewing at his onigiri thoughtfully. Somewhere downstairs, the sound of rowdy shouting from a classroom can be heard, cutting through the silence. It feels like a long, long time before Kai speaks again.

“That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? He doesn’t intentionally provoke you, does he?”

Tetsurou frowns at that and pokes at the pickles his mum packed into the lunchbox. “Just seeing his face pisses me off, Kai.”

“Yeah, but has he actually ever done anything to you?”

Tetsurou pauses - he knows the correct answer to this question.

 _No, he hasn’t_.

While Yaku’s a true pain in the ass and he’s got a shitty attitude, he’s never done anything to Tetsurou, per se.

Begrudgingly, he admits, “...no.”

Kai’s smile is ever-patient as he shrugs. “The seniors were concerned, because the two of you haven’t been playing as well as you usually do.”

Tetsurou flushes. He knows it’s true - his mind hasn’t been in the game recently, and he knows he’s been making basic mistakes that he wouldn’t normally. It’s just - he was hoping to get out of the rut as soon as possible, but hadn’t expect the seniors to catch on so quickly.

“Right, sorry. I’ll try to sort it out soon.”

 

Later on, when he’s back in class zoning out as the teacher talks about vector equations, Tetsurou thinks about Yaku. Truth be told, Kai’s got a point.

It’s been two and a half months, give or take, since he met Yaku again. While they’re not friends, not by a long shot, Yaku’s not as bad as Tetsurou thought he was. _Thought_ , because back in first year of middle school, he didn’t even know Yaku, did he?

Some part of Tetsurou feels slightly foolish. Yaku’s never really insulted him or anything besides pointing out his mistakes - and that’s when Tetsurou realizes that Yaku’s not pointed any out since their fight, despite Tetsurou’s shitty plays.

Crap, Tetsurou thinks, now suddenly guilty. He’s screwed up a fair number of points with poor blocks this week, and Yaku’s been picking a bunch of them up without much complaint.

Now that he’s looking at things this way, Tetsurou wonders if he’s been misjudging Yaku all this while. It’s getting increasingly harder to remind himself that “Yaku’s an asshole” when Tetsurou’s not that much better himself.

  
They’re playing a 3v3 - the three of them against three of the second years - when the second years set up a quick spike. Tetsurou manages to touch and narrow the course of the ball, but still not enough that it would guarantee a clean save from the back. Yaku would be hard-pressed to return it to Kai, Tetsurou thinks as he lands and turns to watch the ball -

But Yaku’s there, as he always seems to be, and he sends it back to Kai as though it were no big deal. Tetsurou is kind of awed, like he was when he first saw Yaku play in middle school.

The first years earn that point, and against every protesting cell in his body, Tetsurou manages to force out a reluctant, “Nice receive.”

The reaction he gets is instantaneous - Yaku stares at him as though he’s lost his mind, face going blank for a moment. Kai, on the other hand, simply stands there, watching the exchange.

Then Yaku seems to recover his composure, and with more than a bit of effort, says, “Thanks.”

 

They’ve just wrapped up another Saturday practice, which means it’s the weekend at long last, and that Tetsurou gets to hang out with Kenma tomorrow.

But right now -

“I’m starving,” Tetsurou says, pulling on his jacket. Winter’s fast approaching and the weather’s getting chilly. “Wanna go grab lunch, Kai?”

Kai’s voice is muffled as he bends over to remove his court shoes, but Tetsurou can make out a “Sure” before Kai straightens back up and says, clearly, “Wanna join us, Yaku?”

Yaku, who has been moving towards the door, turns and stares at Kai like a deer caught in headlights, in the same breath that Tetsurou does the same. He’d intentionally _not_ asked Yaku, because while they’re no longer always at odds with each other for every waking moment, they aren’t _friends_ either. As volleyball teammates on the court, yeah, that’s fine - but hanging out and eating together? That’s a whole new ball game entirely.

Kai seems oblivious to the awkward silence engulfing the locker room, just keeps looking expectantly at Yaku, who looks down at his feet before mumbling, “Alright.”

  
They unanimously let Kai make the decision of where to eat, because the last time Tetsurou and Yaku tried, they got into an argument that lasted two days. Kai’s craving for ramen, so they head to the hole-in-the-wall ramen place ten minutes away from Nekoma.

The walk there is spent with Tetsurou and Yaku talking to Kai and not each other, which doesn’t help the strange atmosphere at all, because Tetsurou’s definitely listening in on Yaku’s conversation and he’d bet his ass Yaku is doing the same.

Kai, thankfully, makes no comment on them directing all conversation to him, and is even nice enough to sit between them when they reach the ramen shop.

What would we do without Kai, Tetsurou wonders, thanking the heavens that even though he was unfortunate enough to be placed in the same school as Yaku, he was also fortunate enough to have Kai. Kind, angelic Kai, the perfect counter to the true embodiment of the devil, Yaku.

 

... Tetsurou would like to take that comment back, because Kai is certainly not being angelic in any sense of the word when he waves goodbye to Tetsurou and Yaku at the metro, saying, “Both of you are taking the Chiyoda line, right? I’ll see you on Monday!”

That is definitely a victorious smile on Kai’s face before he’s gone in a flash, walking in the direction of the Mita line without even a backward glance. Tetsurou can feel the horrifying sensation of cold, cold betrayal squeezing at his heart with every step away that Kai takes.

Kai _knew_ and took advantage of them -

But anyway, fact is that both Tetsurou and Yaku are apparently heading in the same direction, on the same train, and Tetsurou is only finding this out… almost five months after meeting Yaku. How wonderfully awkward, no thanks to Kai.

“So, uh, where are you going?” The moment the words leave his mouth, Tetsurou sort of wants to kick himself because maybe it would have been better if they’d just taken the ride in silence.

Yaku turns towards him, saying nothing, and the level of intensity with which his eyes meet Tetsurou’s is kind of shocking, sending a jolt through Tetsurou’s entire body. It occurs to him that this might be the first time that he has looked at Yaku, and truly seen him.

“Nezu, to pick up some sweets for my brother,” Yaku says. "I stay in Sendagi, though."

Then, a moment later: “You?”

“Do you mean where I live, or where I’m going now?”

Yaku rolls his eyes, but. “Your choice. Feel free to tell me how many siblings you have, if you please.”

The conversation keeps itself going after that, ranging from siblings to schoolwork to food, before it’s time for Yaku to alight.

 

Later on, Tetsurou will look back at this metro ride, and wonder if it was when they became a little closer to friends.

* * *

**five**

They get along amicably enough after that, but when Kai ditches them one day at lunch in favour of consulting Haruichi-sensei for his first math midterm of second year, Tetsurou still finds himself sitting with Yaku in yet another blanket of awkward silence.

Awkward silence that becomes significantly less awkward when Yaku opens his bento box, because “Holy shit, did your mum make that?”

“No, I did,” Yaku replies smugly, and Tetsurou believes him. Because while making a cat-shaped bento is definitely beyond Tetsurou’s ability, he isn’t surprised that Yaku can. It just seems like a very… _Yaku_ thing to do.

Then Yaku tacks on, “Did your cat make yours, though?” and Tetsurou almost wants to punch him, because _no_ , he accidentally squashed the bento box while on the way to school, that's all - but Yaku’s laughing and Tetsurou can’t help but laugh with him instead.

Lunch with Yaku, it turns out, is more bearable than what Tetsurou (or maybe, both of them) expects.

 

They lose at inter-high prefectural qualifiers, and Tetsurou’s already thinking of ways that the team can train to prepare for Spring High. There’s a lot of work for them to do, but with Kai and Yaku and the third-years, Tetsurou is sure they can make it further at Spring High.

But a lot of work becomes even more when the seniors tell them they won’t be staying on for Spring High. Despite Tetsurou and Kai and Yaku’s pleas, the third-years are adamant on leaving. Only the captain changes his mind and decides to stay behind, albeit reluctantly.

Even with their captain’s presence, the departure of three of their seniors means it’d take nothing short of a miracle for them to stand any chance at Spring High. Had the seniors stayed on, they might have built up the necessary firepower, but as it is they’ve got three first-years this year, none of whom are particularly experienced in playing in official matches yet.

Anyhow, it doesn’t mean Tetsurou, or Kai, or Yaku, are going down without a fight.

 

They head off for training camp with the Fukurodani group, intent on getting in as much practice as they can.

It’s midway through the camp that Tetsurou finds himself staying back after daily training has ended so that he can practice the personal time difference attack with Kenma, who’s obliged him for once. Kai is in the other side of the gym with Fukunaga and the ace from Shinzen, and even Yaku’s carved out spare time so that he can train Yamamoto’s receives.

Tetsurou’s in the middle of slamming down a nice ball when he hears Yaku bellow from the next court: “Arms _together_ , Yamamoto! Don’t you dare dream of calling yourself an ace when you can’t even receive the ball!”

The gym is suddenly quiet, all eyes turned to Yaku and his charge. Tetsurou himself has been on the receiving end of Yaku’s scoldings more times than he bothers to count (though that number has been slowly decreasing this past year), so it isn’t much of a problem except Yamamoto is evidently tired and demoralized, and Yaku’s shouting isn’t doing any good.

Tetsurou decides to step in before anything else happens. “Hey, hey, Yakkun, don’t throw a hissy fit here.”

Right, step in, more like diverting Yaku’s rage to himself. Smart choice, Tetsurou. Yaku turns and glowers at him - “What did you call me?”

What _did_ Tetsurou call him? He has to rack his brain for a moment before he swears at himself, because did he really just give Monster Libero Yaku Morisuke a nickname? Tetsurou doesn’t want to die this young.

But because this is Yaku, and their relationship has been gradually improving in recent days, Tetsurou takes the risk. “Yakkun,” he coos, and Yaku lobs the ball at his head.

 

They put up a strong fight against Nishidai at the Spring High preliminaries, but when it comes down to it, strong still isn’t good enough. Yaku’s switched out when the ball lands on Nekoma’s side of the court, and Tetsurou wonders - had Yaku been on the court, would things have been different?

Later on, when it’s just the three of them in the locker room, Tetsurou turns to Kai and Yaku as they’re changing out. Yaku looks furious, maybe upset; Kai exhausted. Tetsurou feels like a mix of the two.

“Next year, we fight till we can’t anymore.”

“Didn’t need you to tell me that,” Yaku snorts. “Don’t worry your thick head about stuff like this, Kuroo.”

“Try to keep up, Kuroo,” Kai says, and Tetsurou feels lighter than he has for the first time in half a year.

* * *

**six**

He first hears about Karasuno High School a couple weeks before third year starts. Coach Nekomata has joined them - _returned from retirement,_ says Coach Naoi - and they’re playing a practice match against one of the smaller Tokyo schools. Tetsurou’s drinking water on the bench when he hears Coach Nekomata tell Coach Naoi - “Do you think we’ll be able to get the Battle of the Garbage Dump this year?”

It sounds like some strange lingo for a secret mission, but then Coach Nekomata catches him staring and guffaws.

“Oh, Coach Naoi and I have an age-old rivalry against a high school in Miyagi - Karasuno High. The Karasuno coach and I always said we’d meet and have a final showdown at Nationals called the Battle of the Garbage Dump, but we never got to.”

There’s a kind of melancholic ring to the way Coach is talking about this Karasuno.

“I’d given up hope of ever seeing it happen when we both retired, but I hear that their coach has returned as well. Maybe this year will be the year that it happens at last,” Coach Nekomata says, eyes twinkling.

Tetsurou tucks away the piece of information safely in a corner of his mind.

 

Later on that day, when all their matches are over and they’re fresh and clean, Yaku nudges Tetsurou in the side, breaking him from his thoughts.

“What’s got you thinking so hard? You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“What look?” Tetsurou blinks, baffled.

Yaku scoffs, and deadpans: “The look that you get whenever you’re plotting something.”

Tetsurou chortles. “I overheard the coaches talking earlier about a destined rivalry that Nekoma has with a school in Miyagi.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Karasu- Karasuno? Apparently Coach Nekomata and Karasuno’s coach vowed to one day play against each other at nationals. They call it the Battle of the Garbage Dump, but it hasn’t happened yet.

“So… Coach was saying he hopes our batch will be the one that finally makes it happen.”

Yaku looks contemplative, gulping down his water before saying, “Then make it a reality, captain.”

Tetsurou flushes; he’s still not used to the title, which he has to get over soon, seeing as how the first-years are joining them in a couple more weeks, give or take. “Yeah, well, I’ll be counting on you guys.”

 

They have three new first years, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, all of whom seem to adore Yaku so much that sometimes Tetsurou and Kai don’t even get to hang out with Yaku anymore because Yaku’s always, always helping them out in some way or another.

He brings it up one day at lunch.

“The first years really like Yakkun, don’t they?”

The nickname’s stuck ever since the Fukurodani camp, and Yaku’s tired of protesting every time Kuroo uses it, to the extent where Bokuto picked it up when they met for training camp before third year started.

Yaku laughs. “What, are you jealous?”

Tetsurou shrugs - so what if he is? “Maybe I am. _I_ ’m the captain after all, and Kai’s the vice-captain!”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Kai says, but he’s smiling, that traitor. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m just saying what’s secretly on both our minds, Kai,” Tetsurou continues, unfazed. “We can’t just let Yakkun keep hogging the limelight!

“The first-years are going to be so deceived by his innocent- _ouch that hurt, don’t pinch me like that Yakkun-_ looks that when he unleashes his demon-senpai mode it’ll be too late -”

Yaku does jab him then, with his chopsticks. “Are you running a fever?” he asks in mock concern, chewing away obnoxiously as he does so “It’s way too early to be putting up with your nonsense.”

“It’s always too early,” Kai agrees.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Kai,” Tetsurou complains. “Anyway, _as I was saying_ -”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re jealous, just say it,” Yaku says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, of course I am,” Tetsurou retorts. “You spend so much time with them at practice, it’s as though you’ve forgotten who’s been by your side for the past three years!”

“I don’t see Kai complaining,” Yaku says drily. “And as _captain_ -” Tetsurou is sure some part of him wilts at the reminder - “shouldn’t it be your duty to take care of your first-years as well? Why is it that I’m doing all the dirty work when I can’t even spike?”

Fine, he’s got a point. But because Tetsurou’s not going to admit that without a fight, he says instead: “Noted with thanks, _mum_.”

His efforts earn him another hard jab in the arm, from Yaku’s fingers this time. Tetsurou relishes in the warmth they offer before Yaku pulls his hand away.

 

The first time they meet Karasuno for a practice match, Tetsurou isn’t sure what to expect. He’s heard, of course, that both Nekoma and Karasuno are powerhouse schools fallen from grace. But fallen from grace or not, Karasuno’s freak quick still takes them by surprise anyway.

Nekoma wins, but Tetsurou finally understands why Coach Nekomata is so intent on meeting Karasuno at nationals.

Karasuno isn’t a _normal_ school: they push Nekoma to their limits and beyond, and Tetsurou feels thoroughly exhausted at the end of the practice match.

It’s a good kind of exhaustion, though, and he can feel the slightest bit of adrenaline rush through him at the thought of duking it out to the death against the other team, with their steady captain and capricious members.

 

In between second year and third, Tetsurou can confidently say that Yaku’s become one of his best friends, which is why they’ve fallen into the habit of having study sessions on Saturdays after practice and lunch with Kai - because Yaku sucks at Chemistry and Tetsurou could do with some help for Classic Literature. It’s a win-win arrangement, so both of them have made it a Thing between them on Saturday afternoons.

Right now, he’s sprawled out on Yaku’s bedroom floor, slogging away at a lab report, his heart only partially into the task while the rest of his mind wanders. Things have been changing between him and Yaku recently - maybe it’s because they’re classmates and tablemates to boot, or maybe it’s because he’s been spending more time around Yaku this year than he ever has, but he’s been finding himself more and more acutely aware of Yaku’s presence.

When Yaku is focused, his tongue sticks out a bit and his brows furrow slightly, just like they are now as he works on whatever homework he’s doing. It’s strangely endearing, for someone like Yaku, who always seems to pride himself on being intimidating, to look so… human.

And maybe it’s stupid of Tetsurou to think otherwise, but sometimes he wonders what it would take for Yaku to look at him like that. Or if Yaku ever would. It’s not a train of thought he dares pursue too far, so he turns back to his work instead.

 

“So, what do you think of Karasuno?” he asks Yaku one evening at training camp. Kai’s disappeared somewhere, presumably to hang out with Konoha and Komi, and it’s just the two of them sitting at the cafeteria benches, the rest of the team long scattered across Shinzen’s campus doing god-knows-what. Tetsurou knows, for one, that Kenma’s been waylaid by Karasuno’s shrimpy, who seems to have adopted Kenma into his own circle.

Yaku is quiet for a while. “They’re interesting,” he says. “They seem to - keep growing, you know?”

“Kenma says they’re unpredictable,” Tetsurou offers, to which Yaku nods.

“You think they’ll do this, but they turn around and do something else. It’s fun, actually,” and the way that Yaku’s teeth show when he grins, makes something flutter in Tetsurou’s stomach -  Yaku’s competitive side is one that he doesn’t get to see much, but when he does, the fierceness with which Yaku just _exists_ always steals his breath away.

“Oh, right,” Yaku says, expression softening a bit. “I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What?” Tetsurou’s unnervingly aware of the way that Yaku is staring at him: unblinking and searching.

“Where are you planning to go after graduation?”

The question hits Tetsurou like a pile of bricks. He’s already got an answer in mind - Tokyo University - but somehow Yaku being the one asking him makes him all the more reluctant to give an answer, because suddenly the possibility that he might not be going to the same college as Yaku… seems more dreadful than it should be.

“Tokyo, probably,” he settles for at last. “But I’m keeping my options open for now. What about you?”

Yaku grins then, looking slightly sheepish. “I don’t know either. I was looking at Hokkaido, but -”

 _Hokkaido_. That’s eight hours away from Tokyo. “Oh.”

With a shrug, Yaku changes the topic, like he always does whenever conversation falls into a lull. “I’ll think about it. Hokkaido’s far from home, after all.”

“Mmhmm. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind?”

Yaku hums. “Yeah, sure.”

 

The silence is deafening when the ball lands on Nohebi’s side of the court. It feels almost as though the whole gym is frozen in time, the audience waiting with bated breath a split-second before the referee’s whistle blows. Tetsurou himself stares from where he is at the side of the court, bindings on his fingers forgotten as he watches the ball come to a complete halt.

While the rest of the team on the court cheers and piles sweaty hugs onto each other, Tetsurou’s first thought, unsurprisingly, goes to Yaku. Coach Naoi helps him over - he’s limping, but his eyes are bright as he looks at both Kai and Tetsurou wordlessly.

Someone says something, Tetsurou isn’t sure who, but then he’s flinging himself at Yaku and he can feel Kai on his other side, and maybe he’s crying, but he can’t bring himself to care for that because _they’re going to nationals_.

The rest of the team is looking at him when the three of them finally tear themselves apart, and he only manages to say, “Good job.”

There’s nothing else he can say to them, because they’ve exceeded every expectation he’s ever had of them. Even with Yaku on the bench and himself off the court, they still managed to follow through. Tetsurou feels like he’s drowning in the sheer amount of relief and pride that’s washing over him, until Yaku taps him on the hand.

“We should go, Kuroo,” Yaku says, voice oddly soft.

Kai’s already moved away to help the team pack up their ball cart and get ready to exit the gym, leaving only them behind. Yaku’s leaning heavily on his left foot, and it can’t possibly be comfortable moving around like that, so Tetsurou, being the caring team captain that he is, chooses the most efficient method.

“Here. It’s easier if I just carry you.”

He bends down, offering his back; at this height, he is eye level with Yaku. Yaku considers his offer for a while, before very reluctantly wrapping his arms around Tetsurou’s neck, a brilliant red flush spreading across his face.

“Don’t get used to it,” Yaku warns, but his tone is warm, his breath tickling the back of Tetsurou’s neck. “I’m never going to let you do this again.”

“Yea, whatever,” Tetsurou says fondly. “I’m not counting on you to get injured again, either.”

Yaku is light, and it isn’t difficult to lift him up at all, but there’s a heavy weight in Tetsurou’s chest as he slowly makes his way out of the gym, Yaku’s presence warm against him. A sentence from one of the English Literature readings they’d done a couple weeks ago comes to mind unbidden - _a heart’s a heavy burden_.

 

It’s a day after their last high school volleyball match, which is reason enough for celebration. Since there’s no practice, they - meaning Kai, Yaku and Tetsurou - are going to the ramen place ten minutes away from Nekoma to celebrate.

It feels like the good old days, and Tetsurou recalls with startling clarity the day, two years prior now, that he was unwittingly roped into having lunch with Kai and not-my-friend Yaku Morisuke.

How far they’ve come, truly, Tetsurou muses as he nicks a piece of chashu from Yaku’s bowl, which immediately sparks a chain of food thefts between the three of them. From rivals out for each other’s blood, to teammates, to friends, to this. They’ve gone to nationals, made their coach’s dream a reality, and here they are, stealing food from each other. It’s a matter of weeks before they take their entrance exams and graduate, and go down their separate paths.

And if Tetsurou were to be honest with himself, he’d like them to be… something more than _this_. If Yaku would let him. If Yaku did feel the same. The thought is as dizzying as it is unbelievable and terrifying, and Tetsurou bites down on his lip to keep himself from blurting it out.

Later, when the evening sun is beginning to set, blood red spilling across the horizon, Yaku and Tetsurou bid farewell to Kai at the metro station, settling in for the train ride that they’ve gotten used to taking together.

Tetsurou alights with Yaku at Sendagi, because it’s early and he’s got a direct bus home from Yaku’s place anyway. And it’s not like they’ll get to do this for much longer, so Tetsurou’s definitely not letting the chance slide.

They walk in silence for a while, before Yaku asks at length, as they walk through a playground:

“So, what’s got your knickers in a knot?”

Tetsurou’s about to protest that when Yaku stares at him, hard; instinctively, he looks away. “Nothing,” he mutters sheepishly.

Yaku’s stopped walking, so Tetsurou stops too, follows Yaku as he wanders over to a swing set and settles down there, the sight strangely befitting of Yaku’s slight form.

“You’re shit at lying, you know?” Yaku says, huffing out a breath. “You always go quiet when there’s something on your mind.”

Tetsurou barks a laugh at that, sitting down in the swing next to Yaku. “Fine, you caught me. It’s not something, it’s someone.”

“Oh?” Yaku quirks his eyebrows in slight amusement, a small grin making its way onto his face. In the dim light of the playground lamps, his eyes are glittering. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

It’s now or never, so: “What if I said it was a guy?”

Yaku doesn’t even blink an eye, just says, “So who’s he? Do I know him?”

“Didn’t take you for a gossip, Yakkun,” Tetsurou chides. He’s evading the question, but he’s not entirely prepared to give Yaku the answer he wants. He’s not even sure Yaku wants to hear the answer.

Yaku gets fed up with him beating around the bush, though, and kicks him in the ankle brusquely. “Since you don’t need your ankle for nationals anymore, I might accidentally sprain it for you.”

“You’re a brute,” Tetsurou whines, but lets his voice taper off. “What if -”

Yaku’s full attention is on him now, and Tetsurou knows there’s no going back.

“What if it’s you?”

He watches as his words sink in, and a myriad of emotions play out across Yaku’s face. Confusion, shock, surprise, and then Yaku’s blushing, red enough to rival his Nekoma jacket.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that,” he snaps, and really, Tetsurou should have expected him to react this way. Yaku’s always been the kind to react to unfamiliar situations with hostility, and this, Tetsurou supposes, is one of them.

“I’m not, though. I think I might be in love with you, Yaku.”

And, half a beat later, because he doesn’t have anything else to lose, so might as well get it off his chest while he’s at it: “I might be in love with you, and it’s _terrifying_ , Yaku.”

Yaku’s shaking his head, and Tetsurou feels dread wrap around him. It’s the same feeling he had when he was shut out by Nohebi during qualifiers, except a million times worse. He’s bracing himself for the worst, when Yaku whispers, “Why’d you choose to tell me this today?”

Tetsurou’s trying to find an answer for that, but his mind seems to have turned to cottony mush all of a sudden, and the next thing he knows Yaku’s hugging him, knocking him off the swing and onto the soft ground beneath. “You’re an idiot, you know that, Kuroo?”

“Does that -”

“Yes, it is,” Yaku says, a note of impatience now clear in his voice, even though Tetsurou is sure that’s dampness he can feel on his chest where Yaku’s resting his face.

 

Graduation rolls around, all too fast and not quickly enough. Tetsurou gets his diploma and takes all the photographs he needs to, and then he’s waiting at the entrance of the school hall, with Yaku next to him, for Kai to catch up with them so they can visit their juniors for the last time as Nekoma students.

“You know,” Yaku says, “I didn’t plan on graduation being like this.”

“Neither did I,” Tetsurou laughs. “If I’d known you were going to be accepted into Todai, maybe I wouldn’t have confessed to you like that.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have asked me first,” Yaku's grinning, but he gives Tetsurou a shove that’s just enough to make him lose his balance anyway. 

Kai appears right then, one hand stretched out to keep Tetsurou on his feet, the other hand holding tightly to his diploma. His eyes crinkle as he observes them bickering in their graduation gowns, and Tetsurou wonders for a fleeting moment, if this was what Kai had planned all along, from the first time he made Yaku join them for lunch at the ramen shop.

“Keep it family-friendly, lovebirds,” Kai says. Oh, Kai, nonplussed as always. What would they have done without Kai, really.

Because it’s graduation day, Tetsurou tells Kai as much. “You’re the true MVP of Nekoma. Bearing with us,” he makes a vague gesture at Yaku and himself, which earns himself a hard step on the toes, “for three years.”

Kai grins at that, and says, “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

* * *

**∞**

They’re in a McDonald’s in the middle of Tokyo’s suburban districts, a couple streets away from Todai. Tetsurou’s thinking if he should ask Yaku about renting an apartment together for convenience’s sake, when Yaku says, with two fries in his hand and no preamble whatsoever:

“So, when are we going apartment viewing?”

Tetsurou valiantly tries to stop himself from choking on his chocolate milkshake, but fails terribly at doing so. Yaku gives him a disgruntled look and a couple hard whacks on the back, muttering, “You're gross.”

Oh, Yaku. The one and only person in the world who would straight up assume that they were moving in together even without any further discussion.

“Next time, warn me first.”

“For what?”

“My heart can’t take all these surprises, Morisuke.”

At the use of his first name, it’s Yaku’s turn to go scarlet - “The same could be said of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> TItle taken from [Those Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWzlwGVQ6_Q) by Hu Xia.
> 
> Shoutout to [Tsucchi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsucchi/pseuds/Tsucchi), [Safyre](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily) and [Elly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenFics/pseuds/BrokenFics)! What would I do without y'all (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*
> 
> Slight inspiration for Kuroyaku piggybacking taken from [nylie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6411901) and [aritzen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9211553)'s fics, which y'all should check out if you haven't already. 
> 
> My last fic was coincidentally posted on the first Kuroyaku day (Jan 3), so I thought it'd be great to post another on March 1 as well :D 
> 
> This was supposed to be a short relationship study for Kuroyaku and how they grew on each other over the years, but somehow one thing led to another and it ended up being a headcanon dumping ground woops- 
> 
> Congrats on lasting seven years with one another, dumbasses, even if three of those years are up for debate. 
> 
> Scream with me here about Kuroyaku:  
> [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans)


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